


His Silence Calls My Name

by kittypox



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: James is always great, Jeith - Freeform, M/M, Non canon compliant, Supernatural - Freeform, jaith - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-19 13:56:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22745578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittypox/pseuds/kittypox
Summary: James was prepared for anything; the adventures of alien contact, the dangers of space exploration, the trials and tribulations of being the first earth crew to venture to deep space and become a part of the intergalactic coalition. What he was not prepared for was finding love in the barren reaches of space, from a creature he isn't certain exists.
Relationships: James Griffin/Keith (Voltron)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 48





	His Silence Calls My Name

**Author's Note:**

> This is my piece for the Jaith 2020 Valentines Day Exchange! I had the awesome partner Glow, who requested some supernatural or monster Jaith. Glad to have you as my partner! (And so sorry this is a bit late, you're the best, man).

“0300 hours and all is quiet on bridge and radar.”

James shut the recording screen, sighing and rubbing tiredly at his eyes. He glanced about the empty bridge, counting the barren seats, reciting the crew roster, grasping at anything and everything he could think of to keep his mind awake and alert. It was a true chore. His training at the Galaxy Garrison had prepared him for many things. He was the best pilot and most qualified candidate there was, which saw him into the seat of MFE captain and as such there, on the Galaxy Garrison’s first deep space mission. His cool head and ability to think while under pressure was a requirement in that wild, unknown terrain. James was, as he occasionally boasted, prepared for anything.

Anything but overnight watches. That had not been a part of his training nor in this particular contract. All through his adolescent and schooling years, he had prided himself on being an early riser, up before the crack of dawn, out the door as the sun rose, and bright eyed and bushy tailed while others were just beginning to drag their feet from bed. He found those tendencies backfiring now, sitting alone in a dark, quiet, lonely bridge at three in the morning (or the earth equivalent), with his eyelids threatening to shut against his will. 

He should have bartered with the other MFEs or with one of the few crew hands. It was an all-hands-on-deck mission where everyone pulled their weight and more, but it was absolute folly to have him, the lead pilot, to risk his attention span due to lack of sleep. Next time he got stuck with watch, he was bartering, he decided firmly, moving to fetch what he guessed would be his third cup of coffee. 

One night he could manage though. James thew himself back into his seat with a sigh, bringing the cup to his lips and nursing the steaming liquid slowly. He could not say if the caffeine was actually effecting him; he still felt tired, his body sluggish, eyelids desperately trying to fall shut and seal closed. A slap to the face jolted him awake for a few moments, but his own soft palmed blow did little to rouse him. He was playing a dangerous game.

-

The flickering of the overhead lights roused James from the slumber he had fallen prey to. Bulbs clicked and hummed, backup generators switching on and then flickering off as well. The bridge was plunged into darkness. James shot to his feet, cursing his weakness and rushing towards the control panels, frantically slamming on buttons. The lights flickered again, but refused to burn on. Panic crested over him and he felt the hairs on his arms and neck stand on end. His heartbeat was hammering in his ears. They were facing imminent disaster. 

_“Calm down, Griffin!”_

He took a deep breath, forcing his brain to slow a pace and to assess the situation. The lights were dead, of that he was amply certain. There were no alarms though, no screaming warning bells demanding that they put on their suits and air supplies, no siren to warn on coming dangers. Another few breaths and James felt calmer. He reached towards one of the control panels, absently noting that it still had power, and began scanning the ship systems. Oxygen levels were strong, all ventilation systems at full capacity, power reserve intact, no complications or errors in any system or log.

James’ brow furrowed as he read the reports. It was impossible, he thought. Could the scanning system itself be broken? Perhaps; the lighting system could not be running at 100% capacity with no errors if all lights were out on the bridge. A second opinion was needed and he moved towards another console and ran another diagnostic scan. To his amazement, several minutes later it spat out the same results. 

James looked at the glowing face of his watch and taped on a recording screen. “0400 hours, 15 minutes and...all is well?”

Even if the scans said all was well, he would make a full report. There had to be a system bug somewhere in their computers and a blown fuse or something or other in the electrical wiring. As he stooped over his own console and began typing, he wondered just what type of mechanical error could cause such a confusing outage. Hopefully something simple; their engineers on board were top of the line, but even they had limits to their talents. Access to necessary supplies for any emergency repairs was also limited. 

As his fingers hovered over the keyboard, he thought back to a time when his own ship had suddenly gone offline. A power surge. That was the answer. Of course, James laughed at himself, his nerves so strung and taut. He had been just a few more breathes away from a nervous break down. A loss of power would have been disastrous--if not deadly--to the lot of them, but of course such a thing could not happen. The Atlas was the Galaxy Garrison's crowning jewel, given life by the best engineers on earth. Nothing could fell her. 

_"So said the Titanic's maker,"_ his subconscious helpfully pointed out. 

James growled at himself. It was a useless intrusive thought, but it was a good reminder not to fall prey to hubris. He could not ride easily on the assumption that all would be well because he was one of the lucky crew to man the finest piece of machinery yet made. Mistakes happened. Human error was irrefutable.

He ran a third systems scan.

“All is well.” James whispered, staring at the results of the third scan. No error to be found. He puzzled over it—though his puzzling did not last too long. Just as he began running his own tick list of what could have caused a power surge, the bridge burst into light, monitors flaring on, screens pulsating between black and gray. Intermittent bursts of static punctuated each flash of the screen, drowning the room in a horrible drone so loud, James slammed his hands over his ears. 

The overhead lights began to flicker, joining in on the offensive din. The bizarre strobe-like effect had a dizzying effect, leaving James’ knees wobbly. His feet felt weak, as if he were walking in water or on uneven ground, though he was sure that the floor beneath his feet was as solid as it had ever been. The droning static slipped through the cracks of his fingers and wheedled into his ears. It was becoming almost too much to bear and he took a hasty step backwards, intending on fleeing the scene and rousing the rest of the crew. 

Abruptly, the commotion stopped; the bridge went dead. He was plunged into blackness once more. His ears rang with the sudden silence, the echoes of the static still singing in his ears. Slowly, he lowered his hands, blinking rapidly to try and adjust his eyes to the pitch. With not even the ambient light of the monitors to aid him, he could see nothing. The sound of his own uneven breathing thundered in the silence. 

A flash of what James thought was lightening struck close to his feet and sent him tumbling to the ground, gasping and cursing. White light pulsed behind his eyelids and it was only through herculean effort that he peeled them open to see what had exploded—because surely it had been an explosion. There was no scent of smoke or burning materials. No, he saw no flame at all. Instead, what he settled his eyes on was a lean form, cast in a vibrant, violet glow. He stared, dumbstruck. 

_“I’m dreaming.” <.em> James thought, his own inner voice soft in reverence to the being standing before him. _“I fell asleep on duty and I’m dreaming.”__

_But never before had his dreams been so vivid or so beautiful. He had dreamed of lovers, as any red-blooded young man would. He had lost himself to day dreams and prayers for someone with soft looks and a kind heart. There were a plethora of dream men, but none had possessed the beauty this ethereal creature did. Tall and slender, pale skin and striking looks--although the eyes that stared at him were hard and intense. James could not tear his own eyes away. Violet the eyes were, just like the strange aura of light that surrounded the young man like a halo. If he squinted, James thought perhaps the tint of violet extended onto the otherwise pale flesh. Most definitely a dream._

_Silence stretched between them and yet James made no move to stand or speak. Thoughts hammered his brain, each demanded answers, but he could think of nothing for more than a few moments before he was drawn back to the young man’s eyes._

_Was it a dream? He could have pinched himself to see, but James feared moving, lest he scare the creature away or dislodge himself from this delicious fantasy._

_“Who are you?” he whispered._

_The young man tipped his head to the side, full lips parting slightly, as if he might answer. A tail of long, woven black hair fell from his shoulders and James noted the luminescent needles protruding through the weave._

_“ _What_ are you?”_

_He was apparently understood; the creature's mouth quirked into a grin. He raised a slender hand, slender black fingers reaching out, and a trill of fear ran over James’ skin at the sight of a set of long, dangerous looking nails. Claws was a more appropriate word and he could just image what those nails could to to soft human flesh. He swallowed, flinched back slightly as the young man dropped into a crouch before him and lifted his hand. A single finger extended towards him._

_A touch. No threat or warning, just a gentle exchange, that was what he wanted. Perhaps stupidly, James began to reach his own hand forward, willing and eager to meet the young man’s request. And it was a dream, was it not? No harm could come to him in a dream._

_The touch was surprisingly warm, as if fire burned beneath the creature’s flesh. The tips of their fingers met, warmth spreading into James. It was welcoming. He dared to unfurl the rest of his fingers and was met with approval as slender fingers straightened to meet his until they were palm to palm. He had expected ice, perhaps even hard stone, given the unyielding look in the young man’s eyes. He had expected something foreign, alien. Instead, he felt warm, soft flesh, just like his own. Were it not for a few distinct facial features, James would think that this being was nothing more than a beautiful vision conjured up from the depths of his love-starved mind._

_“What are you?” he asked again, moving his hand slightly. He wanted to take that hand in his own and pull the young man closer._

_It was a mistake. Sensing what he was about, the creature yanked away before he could thread their fingers together. Curiosity left the enrapturing violet eyes, the hard expression returning as he jumped back to a stand._

_James scrambled after, fumbling to his feet. “Wait!”_

_The console monitors began to flash, the static drone beginning anew. He looked around frantically as the computers began to boot up. Lights began flickering on. The clamor was rising, as it had when the creature first appeared. James could guess what it meant._

_“Wait!”_

_The young man stared hard at him, face slack, unmoved. The aura of undulating violet light surrounding him began to brighten. As if in way of goodbye, the young man raised a hand, waggling the finger at James teasingly before violet light erupted and blinded him._

_James came back to himself a moment later, arm raised to shield his eyes, standing alone in the center of the bridge. Slowly, he lowered his arm, squinting at residual light bursts dancing in his vision. He took a deep breath and cast a look at his surroundings. The bridge was as it had been, monitors in sleep mode, screens dark, but humming and ready for action. The lights were dimmed, as they had been when he had gotten up to retrieve his cup of coffee. The cup, in fact, was still sitting at his assigned console, steaming away and awaiting his attention._

_A dream?, he wondered. It had to be._

_He staggered to his seat on weak feet, collapsing and reaching for the coffee. A dream, he thought with more conviction. Just as he had feared he would do, he had fallen asleep. Deep space jetlag had messed with his head and he was having wild dreams. That was it; nothing more. He felt satisfied with that answer._

_Still...he could not shake the feeling that something extraordinary had happened. His eyes darted around the room again, searching for any sign that he had had company. Of course, there was nothing. Yet another system scan revealed nothing out of the ordinary having taken place._

_James leaned forward and tapped on his recording screen. “0400 hours, thirty five minutes; all is well.”_

_`````````````````````_

_“It sounds like a dream.”_

_James frowned at his lunch tray; that had become the bitter refrain of his current days.  
If Kinkade said so though, James was inclined to agree. Kinkade was one of few men whose judgment he trusted as much or more than his own. And yet, he was unable to shake the wild sensations that still ran through his body each time he thought of the encounter he had with the angelic young man. As a good soldier is obligated to do, he had made a full report of the incident, from power surges, to complete electrical failings, to the mysterious young man who had appeared before him on the bridge. Had he not possessed such a pristine reputation, James knew that he would have lost all credit among his peers. As was, they dismissed his claims with hearty laughs. As he had expected, the system scans that the others ran after his report showed no anomalies. It was naught but a dream to all those who heard the tale._

_James knew better though. There was a brave new world out there that they were cruising to be a part of. Contact had been made years ago, so it was no secret that there were other creatures in the galaxy, waiting to be met. Why his claims were so ludicrous to the others, he could not wrap his mind around. He supposed, after pondering it long and hard, that the lack of any evidence to back up his story kept others from thinking it little more than fanciful dream, no matter how reputable he was._

_Kinkade, ever the loyal friend, was the only one willing to listen to him expound about the details of his meeting, even if he did not believe the tale._

_“Say it did happen,” his fellow pilot began, tapping his fork on the patty of ground meat that passed as a hamburger, “what could the guy have been?”_

_James had to admit he had no ideas._

_Kinkade frowned, moving on to shovel at the green mash that was some vegetable. “It couldn’t have been real, so let’s move on from there.”_

_“Why do you say that?” James asked, tone somewhat defensive._

_His friend did not mind the tone. “You said this guy appeared in front of you, no helmet or bodysuit or anything. One second you were alone, the next he was there, right?”_

_“Right.”_

_“Then it had to have been some kind of dream or a vision or hallucination.” Kinkade waved his hand in a wide gesture to indicate the great space around them. “We’re in deep space, man; no planets or satellites or ships for thousands of miles around us. No living creature could survive out there, floating in space with no air regulator.”_

_That was something James had not considered before. He chewed anxiously at the straw in his water pouch and pondered._

_“That aside,” Kinkade continued, “forget about air, it’s ice cold in open space. Come on, man. It couldn’t have been real. Science doesn’t support it.”_

_And he couldn't argue with the reality of science, even if James was still certain that he had not been dreaming. It was just as difficult a pill to swallow, that he had been hallucinating. He had never been victim of caffeine visions or exhaustion induced mirages before._

_It was best to let the issue drop though. Kinkade might humor him, but James knew that if he spoke about his mysterious visitor too much, he would tarnish his reputation beyond repair. He did not need to be known as the great pilot who succumbed to pandorium within a week of being in deep space._

_Even with his silence though, he was haunted. When he did dream, he dreamed of vivid violet eyes and black fingertips that were soft and warm to the touch. Those he knew were dreams and when we woke, it was often in deep disappointment, knowing that not only was his bed empty, but he could not express his disappointment to the others without being mocked ruthlessly._

_Silence was his savior. Pretend it didn’t happen, James told himself. Allow the subject to die. The others would laugh and make jokes at his expense from time to time, but James knew that if he said nothing more on the subject, it would eventually be forgotten and left in the waves of space where it belonged._

_Whether he spoke of it or not though, the memories followed. Paranoia set in, or so he self-assessed. Each flicker of the lights or sudden rebooting of a console or monitor reminded him of his strange visitor and made him wonder if perhaps another encounter was soon to follow. The fact that these flickers almost always happened when he was alone did nothing to sooth James’ nerves. But there was no second coming, no new vision. Always, James found himself alone, flickering light or no. It was all coincidence and he read too far into it._

_As the days passed, James was able to start believing Kinkade’s words and he was able to comfortably tell himself that it was all some dream, concocted by a mind suddenly deprived of human contact and searching the cold reaches of space for companionship he had not found one earth. Loneliness was palpable. Each one of them suffered from bouts of loneliness, in one form another. The longer they were away from earth, the farther they traveled, the worse it became. It made their arrival at the deep space station all the more anticipated. When the first signs of the grand station came into view on the bridge viewing screen, the crew let out a collective howl of joy. Some screamed, others cried, but their relief could not be contained, even as the captain sternly reminded them of protocol and the next steps they were to take. It would be a formal affair, but for the moment, James did not care about decorum. For a few blissful moments, he was simply happy that they were at last in reach of civilization._

_``````````````````````  
Civilization turned out to be a very broad defining term. For certain, they were in the midst of a great many intelligent and capable people, but the sheer variety of those peoples baffled even the great Sam Holt, who had been the first human to make contact. There was no shortage of races present at the space station. All shapes, sizes, colors—all were present. It was amazing—and humbling. Stepping from the loading ramp, the Atlas crew was greeted by a great procession of ambassadors, staff, and other onlookers. _

_James took in as much detail as he could while standing stoically beside Ambassador Holt, though his brain felt as if it were overloading. A tall, thin man with graying skin and a number more limbs than humans approached the captain and ambassador Holt, extended a hand in greeting, and welcomed the lot of them. A smile twitched at the corner of James’ mouth as ambassador Holt immediately jumped into conversation, eagerly shaking the man’s hand (one of four offered) and complimenting the facilities. Had he been given the opportunity, James was certain that the man would have taken the opportunity to interrogate their new alien allies and gotten every detail on the space station and all those who occupied it. Thankfully, they were spared having to awkwardly stand about as such a conversation took place and the alien gracefully swept a hand towards a group of station crew members waiting to help them unload their cargo and take the Atlas crew to their quarters to rest. James had to admit, sleeping somewhere other than a cramped, four person suite would be a real treat and even his curiosity at his new surroundings couldn’t overcome his exhaustion._

_As he followed behind one of the station crew members, politely listening to his guidance and answering questions that were posed, all James could think of was sleep. The idea was so alluring, it was drowning out all other thoughts. The crew member glanced at him over his shoulder, large eyes gleaming knowingly._

_“This is your room; your fellow crew members will be housed in the rooms next to you.” As if on queue, Kinkade and Rizavi’s voices floated down the hall behind them. “Don’t be afraid to ask for anything. We’re happy to accommodate our new allies.”_

_“Your kindness is very appreciated.”_

_As soon as the door shut behind the leaving crew member, silence rushed in. Nothing could be heard through the solid doors; no mechanical humming or engines, not the echoing voices of his fellow MFEs, nothing. Under a different set of circumstances, it might have been unnerving. As was, James found it soothing in an indescribable way. Relief flooded his mind and he stumbled the few paces to the bed and collapsed into it, eyes drifting shut before his head had even hit the pillow. He had a single moment to think how comfortable the mattress and pillow were before sleep overcame him._

_`````````````````````  
Four courses into the welcoming banquet and James was still yawning. He tried to be discreet, hiding behind his fist or turning his head to the side, but whenever he turned back there was always a grinning face staring back. Three days of ample rest ought to have been enough for him to recover from the trip to the station, but apparently not. As plates were cleared and the socializing period began, he stopped trying altogether to mask his crippling exhaustion. Another good night of rest would set him right and he was just about to excuse himself when Kinkade waved him over with an enthusiastic jerk of his arm._

_Sighing, sorely wishing to be back in bed, James made his way over to where Kinkade was chatting up a set of what appeared to be pilots. He nodded politely at them all then turned his gaze to Kinkade, asking silently what was so important as to keep him from rest._

_“James, this is Kael and Neilla. They’re pilots for a race called the Galra.”_

_Called it._ “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

After a set of stern handshakes, Kinkade cleared his throat. “So, James, Kael and Neilla were telling me a bit about their own deep space ventures. They’ve been to some very interesting places.” 

James smiled thinly, trying to mask the fact that, at the moment, he could not care less about the travels of others.

Kinkade carried on, knowing that James was searching for a reason for this conversation. “They told me about an interesting set of, ah, alien life forms that they run into from time to time—Space sirens.”

James blinked. “Space sirens?”

“Cosmic troublemakers.” The male galra spat, clearly having had a few too many run-ins with these creatures that had caused him more than a little annoyance. 

Kael, the female galra, snorted, her mouth grinning even though her voice was rueful. “Troublemakers is an understatement; at their best, the sirens steal the quintessence from ships and leave us stranded for hours until we refuel and can get our engine up and running again. At their worst, they utterly decimate entire fleets. Whatever damned ancestor of ours that broke off to create those monsters ought to have been caught and strung up by his innards.”

Most of her words went over James’ head, but he was beginning to grasp why Kinkade had called him over. “So these space sirens are--”

“Scavengers.” Kael provided.

“But they can effect a ship’s power supplies and electronic systems?”

“It’s their specialty; it’s what makes them so dangerous.”

Clarity was dawning on James, but there was one more thing he had to know, one more fact he needed to be assured of before he was willing to believe. “Can they manifest inside of ships? Even without being granted entrance, can they get in?”

The galra pilots shared a glance. They were beginning to suspect that there was a reason for James’ curiosity. His questions were just a bit too specific for their liking. Perhaps that was why Kael’s next words were so hard and pointed.

“If ever you meet a siren face to face, you run. They can walk through walls and penetrate any ship, no matter how great it is. Our defenses are nothing to them. Sirens are not to be trifled with. They are heartless, cold, murderers.”

````````````````

Siren. Space siren, not to be confused with the creatures of lore from earth, but real, flesh and blood creatures that floated about space and caused ruination. But could that truly have been the creature that he saw? James was not so certain. If all sirens were murderous, trouble-making, beings then surely the young man he had met was some other creature. A few electronic hiccups aside, their ship was unharmed. No theft or damage whatsoever. More importantly, _he_ was unharmed. Whatever it was he had seen had no inclination to harm him. 

_Something else then_ , James thought as he curled beneath the layers of blankets. 

What that something else could be, James did not have the energy at the moment to mull over. That such a thing as space sirens existed was disconcerting, but he could put it aside for the time being. Tomorrow, or whenever he next had a free moment, he would ponder the nuances between these space sirens and the lovely creature he had encountered. Sleep first. 

`

“Tell me about your encounter.”

James looked up from the fueling tube he was attaching to his MFE ship. There was a great deal of work to be done in preparing their earth ships for deep space function and he was eager to begin. Kael was looking at him earnestly though, her mouth set in a near snarl. 

“I don’t know what you--”

“The sirens.” she hissed. “I could see in your eyes last night—you’ve seen them.”

And it was apparently not an honor that he had such a meeting. James was hesitant to speak on it still. Was it better now that they knew such creatures existed? Would his team mates stop laughing or would they start to worry? 

“Does it matter?” he countered her, “It’s done. He’s long gone.”

Kael’s face remained hard, but James was beginning to theorize that the galra typically held such stoic, even cold expressions. Her next question surprised him.

“Did your ship continue to malfunction, even after you saw the siren the first time?” His lengthy silence was answer enough. Kael shook her head, muttering something in her mother tongue before thrusting a warning finger beneath his nose. “Watch yourself, earthling. One is always lucky to escape a siren encounter alive.”

A wash of confused frustration crested over James and he bit back some acrid words. He failed to see what inspired such fear. He wasn’t convinced that it had even been a siren he had encountered. “I ‘escaped’ just fine. He didn’t do anything; he played with the lights, touched my hand, and left.”

Finally, he dragged some type of reaction from her with those words. She stared at him in wide-eyed awe, mouth working every now and then as if she could not find words. Were he a man of thinner skin, James might have been inclined to be smug, but he knew better. Her shock troubled him. Dismay on the face of a hardened deep space pilot like Kael meant...he did not know. He needed to know.

“What?” James pressed, brows knitting together in concern. 

It took a moment for her to find her voice. “It...touched you?”

James nodded warily. “When he showed himself—after he made all of the lights and machines flicker—he reached out his hand and we touched.”

“Hand to hand?!”

She reacted as if such a touch were tantamount to laying with the creature. The conversation was beginning to grow uncomfortable. James shifted on his feet, wondering why such a simple touch would garner such a violent reaction. Were these creatures poisonous? Kael had said repeatedly that they were deadly, but she had not expounded on just how they were so deadly. Had he inadvertently poisoned himself? Had he brought a disease onto the ship and placed them all in danger of infection? The possibilities were endless and his mind began to race. 

A tense beat of silence passed between them, a number of emotions crossing Kael’s usually stern face. The longer she stood in contemplative silence, the deeper her frown became. She ignored his repeated pleas for an answer. Only afterwards did James realize that her hand had instinctively drifted to her side and to the weapon holstered there. 

When Kael spoke, it was in a low voice, slow and careful. “Very few people survive an encounter with a siren. Those who do are lucky. Or they are chosen.”

Chosen. James did not like that word. “What does that mean?”

She leaned in closer, conspiratorially, as if what they were discussing were a great secret and could cause unfathomable trouble, were anyone else to hear. James leaned in as well, fists clenched in apprehension at his sides. 

“Siren’s do not always kill what they find. Sometimes they choose those they like to...keep.”

He swallowed thickly. “Keep?” he repeated.

Kael nodded. “Keep. Sirens are dark creatures of a wicked nature, bringing only death and destruction where they go. But, every millenia or so, a siren is known to select a mate from those who would be their victims.”

James lost track of his thoughts after that moment. He knew that there a million little threads flying through his brain, but he could not latch onto one long enough to form it into a full idea. A million questions barged to the forefront of his mind, but he could not get his mouth to form words. 

As if taking pity on him, Kael placed a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Beware, earth soldier. A siren may now have its eye on you. If ever you sense the same energy as that night you met, run and do not stop.”

She left him before his brain properly gathered itself and he was able to form the questions he needed answered. One word she had used rang in his brain with particular volume: mate. What did a mate entail? How was he to know if he was ‘mate’ and not just one of the lucky pilots to escape a siren attack? Even if he was selected as a mate, how could a relationship even progress? Did sirens even _speak_? The next time the young man came, would he try to slip James out into space, inevitably killing him via oxygen deprivation? 

He was getting all worked up for nothing, James told himself as he turned back to his ship and the fuel line. His hands fumbled several times and a splatter of thick oil struck his boot, which he hastily mopped up. Worked up or not, James was wise enough to know when he was prone to making errors and he stepped away from the hangar to give himself time to calm. 

An hour, he told himself as he returned to his private room and sat on his cot. Time to meditate would set him right. Kael had simply surprised him, that was all—or so he told himself. After a long, tedious journey from earth to the space station, he was likely to be on edge and easily agitated. 

“Just take a nap, Griffin.” James whispered, shucking his uniform jacket to the floor and kicking his boots aside. 

He laid down, not expecting to find sleep easily. Much to his surprise though, he woke more than three hours later, having fallen into slumber almost as soon as his head had hit the pillow. It took a moment for his sluggish mind to gather itself and pinpoint what it was that had woken him. 

“I can’t believe I slept so late...” he yawned, looking at the clock beside the bed. 

The light flicked off and then on. James froze. That was what had woken him,: the sudden disruption of the humming light that had initially lulled him to sleep. He raised his eyes to the ceiling, watching as the flickering came in rapid bursts, almost like a code. The flashes became faster and faster until it seemed a strobe light was flashing in the room. James shielded his eyes, remembering this blinding display.

The lights suddenly went black. James kept his eyes covered. As he had expected, a brief moment later the lights erupted in white light, so bright and powerful he feared the bulbs might burst. He awaited the sound of breaking glass, but it never came. Gradually, the light softened until it was bearable enough for James to lower his arm and turn his gaze to the figure standing in the center of the room.

He was greeted with a smile, illuminated by the same violet aura he had dreamed about for days. James sucked in a shallow breath, fisting the blankets as he struggled to maintain rational thought in the face of irrational joy at seeing the young man again. 

“Are you a siren?” he blurted, having to say something.

Curiosity puckered the young man’s expression briefly before he nodded. 

James expelled a sharp breath. He had really stepped into it this time. A siren. A siren! He could not help but laugh hysterically at that. Of all the dangers he had prepared for, mythological beings or love hadn’t been on the roster. He was at a great loss as to how to proceed. He lifted his gaze again and the young man stepped closer. 

With nothing but a breath of space between them, James could see the delicate lines of what he assumed to be gills beneath the violet marks that trailed from the siren’s face and down his neck. As he inspected further, he noted that the very tips of the young man’s pointed ears well also violet. It had not just been a trick of the light that always followed the being. If he squinted, James was certain that he also saw traces of violet strands in the tresses of long black hair. 

A hand was extended towards him, palm out, and James got the feeling that he was meant to thread their fingers together once more. He lifted his hand and then hesitated. This was a choice. _The_ choice. If he accepted, what would happen? Would he disappear from all record, never to be heard from again? Would he become another nameless soldier lost to the void of space? What would he lose?

...What would he gain? 

The young man stared at him patiently, hand remaining, unwavering. 

It was ludicrous, James told himself, a short laugh escaping him as he edged closer on the cot. Him, falling in love with a siren? What a story that would be! Whisked away in a bustling space station by a fairy tale creature who defied the natural laws of his people to take a mate. What an idea! What a story! What—what an adventure it could be.

“I--I can’t.” James said softly, standing slowly, staring at the hand extended for him. “I can’t just leave. I have a family, friends—duties! I’m a soldier! I--”

He raised his eyes to find the warm smile still directed at him. Were his protests amusing? An anxious knot tied in his stomach. 

“You understand me, don’t you? I can’t just leave. Even if I want to, I can’t. I--”

But God, he wanted to. He had never wanted something so fiercely. He knew it was foolish, to throw his entire life away in a single reckless decision for a person he knew nothing of. There seemed to be no place for logic in this situation though. Even without knowing this young man, without even knowing his name, James was drawn like a moth a flame and he was willing to lose himself to the burn. 

The longing must have been evident in his eyes. The siren closed the gap between them and took James’ face in hands, holding their gazes together for a long moment. A thousand words and thoughts passed between them and James marveled at the intensity and intimacy of the moment as emotions poured into and out of him. There was passion, lust, and longing from him and to him. He had never felt so wanted in all his life and it nearly brought James to his knees.

Run, Kael had told him. Run far and swiftly. James would run. He knew he would run; but he was going to run right into the very arms he was told to run from. Life was an adventure, after all, and he had left earth for the calling of space. He simply had not realized that the calling was not from space itself, but from the fairest of deep space creatures he had and would ever meet. 

He took the hand offered. Warm fingers slid between his own and he was drawn closer. So close, James could see the slightly sharpened ends of canines as the siren’s lips pulled back into a wider smile. A flutter of apprehension left him dizzy, but all fear abandoned him as his lips were suddenly captured, eager lips pressing against his own. 

Warmth and affection rushed into him again and James greedily drank from it, wrapping his arms around the slim siren and anchoring him close. A name echoed in his head briefly and he pulled back slightly, touching their foreheads together.

“Keith?”

The young man tittered. That was apparently not how to pronounce his name, but it was as best James’ human tongue could manage. Keith seemed to like it, if the echoes of laughter in his head were indication. 

“Keith.” he repeated, leaning in for another chaste kiss. 

The light overhead began to flicker, but James ignored it. This was all he needed in the world, he told himself. Whatever this was—it was too raw and emotional to place a name on it. He craved it though, he needed it, he was ready to submit to it. He shut his eyes as the light grew brighter, grounding himself in the feel of Keith’s arms around him, fingers tightening between his own. Wherever they were going, they were going together. That was all James needed to know.


End file.
